


I fell in love with a wind-up souvenier

by orphan_account



Series: All Alone. [1]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Boy Love, Consensual underage, Drabbles, F/M, Implied homophobia, M/M, Male/Male, Post-Unwound Future, implied homosexuality, implied inappropriate relationships, it's difficult to tell if Flora is OOC when she hardly ever talks, messing with canon, shota-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Flora was by no means a dumb girl, but there were a lot of things about life that she couldn't understand, and frankly didn't want to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I fell in love with a wind-up souvenier

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time ever writing for Professor Layton. So hello out there, everybody. 
> 
> You might have noticed that one of my tags is 'messing with canon.' I changed Luke's age around a bit, in part because shota is still a little awkward for me (LayLuke is the only shota pairing I actually like, but that doesn't mean I know how to write for it). I also just get very concerned - if all the events happen back to back, the way the games say they do, the when does the Professor even actually teach? And the local truant officer must have a field day with Luke. I will also probably be writing the professor as younger than he really is. He doesn't really look 37, or not to me, anyway. 
> 
> I'd also like to note that these drabbles may not be connected in any way, shape, or form. I simply wanted to write some Professor Layton drabbles.
> 
> All character rights go to Level-5. The title (both of the series and of the work) are from the Fun. song "All Alone."

Flora was by no means a dumb girl. She did, after all, live in a world where puzzles were traded like currency, and she'd managed to survive on her own for five years before finally breaking down and sending for outside help. The Professor didn't seem to consider her very valuable, as he never took her anywhere, but she understood this was in part because he was her legal guardian now and felt a duty to protect her. Of course, her father's intention with that little character trial was to find a suitable husband for Flora, and she was greatful for the Professor's obliviousness. She had absolutely no intention of getting married just yet, no matter what was "right" or "proper" for a lady. Nonetheless, she was bright and fully capable of taking care of herself, and did so with alarming frequency as the Professor was never at home. She did well in school, enjoyed learning new things, and whenever possible she took the opportunity to pick up a new skill. Despite her great enthusiasm for learning, there was one aspect of life she would never be able to grasp: Society.

Even before her mother died and her father set to work building St Mystere, Flora was both physically and socially isolated from other people her age. Being wealthy may have a lot of advantages, but friendship was most certainly not one of them. After the town of robots had been built, she had more people to keep her company. But robots are not human beings. They don't have the same morals or ideas about life as humans do, and so there were many things about life in London that confused Flora.

For one, she was endlessly flummoxed by how violent the city could be. She suspected the Professor of requesting Chelmey and Barton to keep an eye on her whenever she saw fit to leave his house. At first she was greatly annoyed by the idea, as she found it condescending. Had she or had she not navigated the streets of St Mystere on her own? But after a man with a shaggy beard and grubby hands attempted to mug her, she was quite thankful for the lookout. St Mystere had been built to protect and nurture her, so the idea that someone out there might want to cause harm to her had simply never occurred. She was also annoyed by how rude other people were, and concerned about the homeless who lined the streets, especially in areas like Whitechapel. What affected Flora most, however, were society's rules about love.

It seemed odd to Flora that people should expect one true love to last forever, when life was ever-changing and inconsistent. She didn't understand why marriage was such a big deal, or why, if she wanted to care for a child without the support of a husband, she should be looked down upon. She couldn't fathom why two men being together or two women being together was considered a travesty, or why multiple people could not be together if that was what they really wanted. Love was so intangible and difficult a topic to grasp, and Flora simply couldn't see why such a convoluted subject needed nearly as many rules as it had.

Flora asked the Professor all of these questions once, and each was met with silence. The Professor finally set down the papers in his hand and said to Flora, 'Many people are convinced that unless certain standards are upheld, society will fall apart.'

'But who makes these rules?' she asked.

The Professor shrugged. 'Religion, mostly, although some - such as speed limits and the age of consent - are created by the government.'

Flora thought on this. 'The speed limit I can understand. It's quite unsafe if you've got cars going really slowly and really quickly operating in the same lane together.'

The Professor tilted his head. 'I take it you disagree with the consent laws?'

'I don't understand - if love is love, then what does it matter?' she blurted.

The Professor blushed and fumbled with his papers. 'Well, a lot of it has to do with psychology -'

'But love is love,' Flora insisted. 'And isn't life about being happy?'

The Professor closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing. 'I think it is, Flora,' he said, and left it at that.

* * *

Flora was actually quite upset about Luke leaving, but it wasn't really her place to show emotion about it all. She hadn't known Luke for nearly as long as the Professor had, and while he put on a good facade at work, Flora knew he was suffering more than he would show. There were cracks that would show through from time to time, and with each fracture Flora could feel her heart break a little more. But still, she had to be strong for him, if for no other reason than to carry on in Luke's place. The Professor's office wasn't going to clean itself, after all. 

But she had to admit, she found it difficult, toeing the line between what she should do because Luke wasn't there to do it anymore, and what she should avoid doing because Luke wasn't there to do it anymore. She thoght maybe bringing the Professor his tea would be a safe ground on which to tread, until the Professor smiled brightly to himself and said, 'Thank you, Luke.'  Flora's smile hadn't even wavered - the Professor was absent-minded and once called the Parrot Rosetta when grading papers - as she corrected him in her usual bubbly manner. The Professor, however, set his tea down on her tray, thanked her, and excused himself. She would have sworn she could hear him crying in his room, were it not for the fact that she very much wanted to pretend the Professor did no such thing.

The days and weeks passed in which she noticed the Professor checking his mailbox quite often, several times a day, even long after Flora had brought the post in. She told herself he was looking for a hidden puzzle, although she knew he was waiting to hear from Luke. She was waiting, too, but she'd made up her mind that if a letter from Luke did, in fact, arrive, she would leave it in the box for the Professor to find. Flora could carry on, but she was becoming more and more convinced that the Professor couldn't.

She still didn't know why Luke left in the first place. He'd told the Professor and Flora both that he was moving to  America because his father had gotten a job overseas, but Flora knew that this couldn't be the whole truth. Luke's father had been the mayor of Misthallery, and mayors simply did not transfer jobs to different countries. There was also no real need for Luke to leave with his father - he had a room at the Professor's house, was enrolled in a nearby school, and was getting on pretty well where he was. He could still go over to visit his parents during the holidays, but as his last birthday and Christmas had been spent at the Professor's house, Flora doubted very much that Clark Triton cared about family bonding. Flora tried to formulate her own theories about why Luke had to leave, but she had nothing to go on. Luke hardly if ever talked about his parents, and when the Professor told stories about his past they mostly involved Claire, Randall, or a woman called Emmy. Flora knew that Clark had been a school friend of the Professor's but as they rarely talked, Flora had to wonder if their friendship had ended poorly.

But then why had Luke been with the Professor in the first place?

* * *

Three or four months after the time-travel incident, as they called it, Clive requested to see Flora. The Professor wasn't keen on letting Flora go out to the prison, but she went anyway (with Chelmey and Barton as supervision, of course). She felt her breath hitch as she approached him, smirking sullenly on the other side of a plastic window.

'I'd thought they would have had you in stripes?' It was a stupid remark, but what were you supposed to say to the man who kidnapped you and held you hostage to make sure his weapon of mass destruction wasn't completely destroyed with himself on board?

Clive shook his head. He looked a lot less like Luke now, his hair cut quite short and face no longer obscured by a cap. 'Orange is uglier, I guess.' He blushed, and Flora could see the gears working to backtrack as quickly as possible. 'It looks lovely on you, of course,' he corrected.

Flora rolled her eyes at him. 'Was there something you wanted to discuss?' she asked.

Clive rubbed the back of his head. 'Right. Er - I'm sorry.'

Flora had a difficult time remembering what he was meant to be sorry for. 

'For everything,' Clive clarified. 'For kidnapping you, for trapping you, for just generally being an ass-' he cleared his throat. 'For just generally being a jerk.'

'Well,' Flora said. She blinked, unsre of how to continue. Should she forgive him? Was there a reason not to? Was there a reason to do so?

'You don't have to say anything,' Clive mumbled. 'I wouldn't forgive me either.'

'Oh,' she sighed. 'I do forgive you. I just don't know what's wrong with you.'

Clive shook his head. 'Believe me, I don't know what's wrong with me either.'

* * *

Flora finally began to understand while cleaning out one of the Professor's desk drawers. And she was livid, wantig a better explanation than the one Clark had given the Professor in the neatly-written letter. She wanted one that would make sense to her. She wanted one that seemed real, and not the petty nonsense the letter outlined. But she knew she couldnnnnnnn't cofront the Profsesor himself about the letter, so she brought the paper to Clive and asked him to read it out loud to her as she sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair and huffed to herself.

"'My dear friend Hershel,'" Clive began, "'I am writing this letter to inform you that I will soon be moving overseas, and Luke shall be accompanying me. Although I find the words difficult to say - or write, as the case may be - I know that I must be completely honest with you.

"'I do not believe that the relationship you hold with my son is an appropriate one...'" Clive trailed off, reading the letter silently for a few seconds before regarding Flora with caution. 'Flora, what Mr Triton has written here... You do realize, this could land the Professor in a lot of trouble? It could potentially jepordize everything that he has worked for.'

Flora crossed her arms and raised her head defiantly. 'I can't understand how -'

'Flora!' Clive cried. 'What Clark describes is illegal! Even if it's not true -' Flora narrowed her eyes at him, and Clive softened. 'If word gets out about what Clark is accusing the Professor of, it would ruin him. He would go to jail, Flora.'

'But I don't understand -' Flora gasped, surprised to find herself crying. Clive wished he could reach out, but all he hit was the window that separated them. 'The Professor would _never_ hurt Luke. He loves him.'

Clive smiled sadly at her. 'Unfortunately, dear Flora, I think that's the issue.'

'But how can that hurt anybody? I don't understand why people,' She had to draw in another breath, just to calm herself down. 'I don't understand why people are so against love.'

Clive tilted his head. 'Flora,' he called, but Flora wouldn't look at him. 'Flora,' he tried again, softer. 'I need you to listen carefully, and not to interrupt me as I try to explain this to you. Do yo understand me?' She nodded. 'I quite like you, and Luke, and the Professor very much. So I need you to promise me that you will destroy this letter as thoroughly and as soon as possible.'

'I promise,' Flora said.

Clive nodded. 'I don't think Clark means a good deal of what he's said in this letter. It sounds as though he is simply jealous. Not only is his job very isolating, meanig that he hasn't seen much of the Professor since their school days together, but his own son refused to speak to him for a good period of time, before forging his name in a letter and then running off with Layton. Jealousy works in many different ways - imagine how you would feel, were you a parent, to find that someone else has taken your place in your child's heart?'

Flora glanced at her lap, twiddling her thumbs idly as she tought.

'What would worry me further, were I Clark, is Layton's reaction. You said this was the only letter? There was no ongoing correspondance, that the Professor didn't try to defend himself?'

'He shouldn't have to!' Flora exclaimed.

'That's not the point, Flora. The point is that, to Clark, Layton's lack of defense may translate to Clark as shame, and confirmation that his suspicions are correct. After all, he is worried for his son's future, as Layton is all Luke ever talks about. Tell me, how old is Luke now?'

Flora had to stop to consider for a moment. 'He was nearly fifteen when he left for America with is father. That was about a year ago, so he'd be nearing sixteen now?'

Clive nodded. 'And when did he first start to travel with the Professor?'

'When he was ten,' Flora said softly.

'Luke spent nearly five years with the Professor as his guardian, his mentor, and his only friend - until the Professor adopted you, of course. Tell me, how often do you think Luke speaks of you in the letters he sends back home?'

Flora chuckled. 'Not very often. I've watched him write them before, in the event that he needed help with spelling. Everything he wrote was about -' She stopped, blinking several times. 'Oh.' Clive nodded. 'But still! What should that matter?'

'Because it never grew out of a childhood crush, Flora,' Clive said. 'If anything, it just kept growing. You must have been able to see it - I certainly could, and Layton never did anything to deter Luke's affections.'

'Because he'd never do anything to hurt Luke's feelings,' Flora finished.

Clive nodded. 'Even if it was for Luke's own good. Now can you see why Luke's father might be concered about their friendship?' Flora nodded.

'But I still don't get why it all matters so much. Luke loves the Professor, and the Professor loves Luke. They make each other happy. Why should it matter if Luke is a little young, or if they're both men? I just...' She shook her head and swallowed hard. 'I don't understand, Clive. Why does it all matter?'

Clive shook his head, now clearly at a loss too. 'Because that's just the way the world works,' he told her.


End file.
